I didn't mean to seek Killian out, but I find myself approaching him when Cadence goes to swim with Jakob. Perhaps I'm just like everybody else, unconsciously gravitating towards him without my knowing.

A group of girls from my class surround him where he stands, but when he notices me watching him as I lean against the tree on the opposite side of the clearing, he excuses himself and glides towards me, that ever present half-smile on his face.

"It's rude to stare, you know," he says when he reaches me. "Though I can't say I blame you."

"Has anyone ever told you that you're much more handsome before you open your mouth?"

"You think I'm handsome?"

I roll my eyes, feigning nonchalance despite the warmth rushing to my cheeks. "I'm surprised you showed up. Isn't there something more important you should be doing? You know, for tonight?"

"But what could be more important than protecting the deserter's greatest asset?"

"Protecting? From who? Professor Fin's boring lecture?"

"You're right," he says, "it was a little more 'Killian, make sure that little village girl doesn't back out and run her mouth'." He shakes his head. "Can you believe she didn't even say please?"

I wrinkle my nose. "At least she didn't call you 'that little village girl'."

"Perhaps, but there is great power in being underestimated."

"You think I'm more than what Trina sees? I'm flattered."

"I think you're more than even you see."

My stomach flips, but I keep my face straight. "Well, one thing is certain, the deserters certainly aren't known for their good manners."

"That we can agree on."

"I was including you in that, you know."

"Oh, I know." He leans closer, eyes gleaming. "I never claimed to be a gentleman, Freya."

I lean back, creating more space between us and take a shaky breath, forcing my gaze out to the lake where Cadence is swimming with Jakob. Cadence is throwing her hands up in the air, a sour expression scrunching her face. I can't help but smile.

"Do you think tonight could result in somebody getting hurt?"

"We know what we're getting ourselves into."

"I wasn't talking about the deserters." I turn to look at him, biting the inside of my cheek. "I mean somebody from the village. Cadence, or Jakob, or... or just someone."

As he stares at me, it's like he can see right into my mind, his slender fingers sorting through each of my most private thoughts. "Are you having second thoughts?"

"No."

"It's okay to be afraid. What you're doing is not small."

I frown, opening my mouth to protest and deny his allegations of my fear, but as our eyes meet, the words die in my throat.

It's hard to know what I can and can't say. With Killian around, many eyes follow us, and people draw closer. Part of me wants to draw him away, where onlookers can't peek through the trees, intrude on our conversation. But for now, the only privacy is from the low hanging branches.

"Cadence said something to me before," I murmur. "She said that I can't do anything for Samu if I'm dead and I hadn't really thought about that, about the fact that I'm just me, potentially going into a den of wolves."

"The deserters won't let them kill you."

"Trina doesn't care what happens to me."

"Maybe not, but Casimir does. And you haven't been around them that long, but a lot of those deserters are starting to respect him more than they ever respected Trina."

I turn to look at him, catching his eye. "Will you be there tonight?"

He shakes his head. "I'm stationed elsewhere. But if everything goes to plan, and you leave the trail for us, I'll see you tomorrow. In the Palace grounds."

"What if, when it comes down to it, I can't do it? What if I-I-I don't have what it takes like with the Councillor's son?"

"You do."

"You can't know that."

"I do know that. All it takes is a little bravery, Freya."

"And yet you've constantly mocked me for my fears."

"We all have fears," he says. "Bravery has nothing to do with the lack of them."

The sun pierces through the leaves above, casting a green sheen across the planes of his face. "I can't imagine that you'd be afraid of anything."

I slump against the tree, holding my arms to my body as we lapse into silence. Cadence has left the water now, her eyes scanning the clearing, but I duck my head. I can barely look her in the eye after my promise. When she wakes up in the morning, what will she find? My torn, mangled body, or an empty cabin? Will she mourn me, or hate me for my lie?

"When I was growing up, my sister used to take me to the beach by our house," Killian says. I turn to look at him, but he's looking out at the clearing, his eyes somewhere far away. "After rainfall, the path was like a swamp. You couldn't trudge through the long grasses without getting your clothes wet and covered in mud. We used to pretend we were on secret missions and crawl on our elbows and knees, infiltrating the enemies' territories like spies."

A small smile arises at the memory, a smile so different to the one usually marking his face. I stay silent, waiting for him to speak again. Peering into his life feels so delicate. I'm afraid if I speak, he'll stop.

"One time I lost track of my sister. I was so short back then I could barely see over the tall grass, even when I was on my toes. I panicked and started running, directionless, and stumbled into a skinks nest. They were all over me. In my clothes, in my hair, my boots. By the time my sister found me, I'd screamed so much my throat was raw."

"Skinks?" I demand, incredulously. "That's your fear?"

He wrinkles his nose. "They're scaly and sneaky."

"They're smaller than your hand."

"Hey, I didn't belittle your fear."

"I'm afraid of death, and you're afraid of skinks. That's hardly comparable."

"Tell that to eight-year-old me. I thought I was going to die as I lay in that nest." I can't fight my smile as he stares down at me through half-lidded eyes. He puts a hand on my wrist, drawing my hand away from my face. "You know you really should smile more."

I swallow the lump in my throat as he releases my wrist, scowling. "Don't tell me what to do."

"Or what?"

"Or I'll put skinks in your bed."

He laughs, but before he can retort, Cadence finds us, her eyes examining the small gap of space between us. I take a step back, offering her my arm.

"Want to get something before dinner?" I offer. Anything to keep her from interacting with Killian. Cadence is anything but subtle, and the last thing Killian's ego needs is to hear her theories about me.

"Sure."

Killian catches my wrist before I can go. "Good luck for tonight. Myers gave something to you that day," he says. "I saw it when I was folding your clothes to return to you. Take it with you."

"What? It was just a piece of junk."

"Just take it. And Freya?" I turn. "I'll see you soon."

#

My father never told Samu that he was adopted. He was never quite old enough to understood what that even meant, anyway. And despite the obvious difference in our features, he never questioned it. We were his family, and he was ours. Our family was whole; three mismatched puzzle pieces that happened to fit together to create a full picture.

And yet, as I stand in my bedroom, examining the scrap metal Myers shoved into my hand the day of that storm, I find myself thinking of my mother. My father never told me how she'd died, but Cadence told me it was probably from childbirth—a common death in Veymaw for young mothers.

Your mother was a pretty lady, Myers said to me that day.

The man was surely mad. There was no way he could have known my mother, but as I glance at myself in the mirror on the wall, running a finger down the bridge of my nose, his voice resonates through my mind. Did she share the same dark brows? Brown eyes? Did her dark hair frizz in the summer air?

If she were alive now, what would she think of me? Of what I'm doing? Of what I'm risking? I know my father would be worried. He shielded me from the evils of the world right from when I was a child, never speaking of the shifters unfair rule, never speaking ill of their ways. Even in death, he told me not to look. He didn't want this life for me, but sometimes, life has a way of choosing us.

"Ready?"

My heart leaps in my throat as I turn to face the door, meeting Casimir's gaze. I glance to the window. The room is bathed in gold as the sun finalises its descent, casting shadows across the wall. The moon has not yet appeared. Soon it will bleed red.

"I don't think this is something I could ever be ready for."

His expression softens as he moves further into the room, eyeing the metal in my hands. "What's that?"

"Killian said—" I cut off, shaking my head and slipping it into the skirt pocket. "It's nothing."

I've spent the last hour examining it, turning it over, trying to find an explanation as to why Myers gave it to me, and why Killian insisted I keep it with me. But no matter how many times I fiddled with it; it remained the scratched piece of metal I initially thought it to be.

"Everybody is in position," he tells me, scanning my attire. Anxiety crawls up my spine as I look at him, dressed in all black, weapons scattered across his belt.

Wearing my simple smock, I feel incredibly vulnerable. I wasn't even allowed to hide a dagger. Anything that would arise suspicion from the shifters was too much of a risk.

"I suppose it's too late for me to talk you out of this."

I smile, reach out and grab his hand. "Whatever happens tonight, know that it isn't your fault, that I chose this, that I lo—"

"Don't," he says sharply. "Don't say goodbye. Don't tell me you love me. Don't give me any indication that you think you could die because I swear on my life, I will chain you to this cabin and forbid you from leaving."

Part of me wishes he would. But Killian's voice echoes through my mind, his unrelenting and potentially misplaced faith in my abilities, and I raise my chin. "I can do this."

"I know you can," he whispers, "I just don't want you to."

I don't want to either. But I have no choice.

"You should get into position," I murmur, glancing at the sky outside, but neither of us moves. "They'll be here soon."

He's an open book to me, I see the internal war raging in his mind, I see his fear, his love, and it only amplifies my own emotions.

"I'll see you in the mountains," he says.

I nod. "I'll see you in the mountains."

He squeezes my hand once more before dropping it, walking backwards till he's in the doorway. With a tilt of his head, he turns to close it behind him. I let out a shaky breath, unclenching my shaky fists, and watch the window. Casimir slinks into the shadows of the treeline, scaling the trunk of a nearby tree and nestling high above, where I can't see.

I settle on the edge of my bed, restless as I watch the colours of the sky shift and darken. Now, all that's left to do is wait.

~

1. Anywhere from skinks to death, what's your biggest fear?

What's the last TV show you watched?

3. What do you think might happen next?